


Peverell

by Cejes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Harry Potter as Hadrian Peverell, Lord Peverell, M/M, Not completely helpless Harry, Possessive Behavior, Yule Ball (first chapter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-17 03:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15451947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cejes/pseuds/Cejes
Summary: Nevertheless, Tom couldn't do anything about feeling a bit of interest raise inside him the longer he observed the mere boy. He didn't seem to be the most intelligent and even though he stood there as he would have every right to do so. A child, Tom thought, that wasn't aware of his own influence and that everyone wanted to be on his good site, just because of his surname. The Peverell's were an old family, old and oh so well-known; and it was told that the family was extinct. But here he was: Hadrian Peverell, the ring, that was evidence of his Lordship over The Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell, on his finger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, that's something I wrote to overcome a writer's blockade. I hope you can enjoy it nevertheless. Please let me know whether you liked it or not.
> 
> English isn't my first language, but I tried to make as few mistakes as possible; and it's not beta readed. If anyone of you is willing to do so: I won't stop you. :-)

Tom Riddle watched the Peverell Heir like everyone else did, with a bit of curiosity and well hidden aversion.

Hadrian Peverell was shorter than average by a few inches, had wild black hair that seemed to have its own life, and he was dressed in a casual and tasteless dress robe. He was badly underdressed for the occasion and it looked like he didn't care at all, which was an inadequate behaviour for an heir and proved that he hadn't enjoyed an appropriate upbringing. That alone was enough to harm his reputation and prestige in the upper class of the wizarding world, but he had to outdo himself because he came alone. Doing that was a symbol of ignorance and lack of knowledge, and so Hadrian Peverell become everything Tom hated packed in one person within the very first seconds Tom saw him.

Nevertheless, Tom couldn't do anything about feeling a bit of interest raise inside him the longer he observed the mere  _boy_. He didn't seem to be the most intelligent and even though he stood there as he would have every right to do so. A child, Tom thought, that wasn't aware of his own influence and that everyone wanted to be on his good site, just because of his surname. The Peverell's were an old family, old and  _oh so_ well-known; and it was told that the family was extinct. But here he was: Hadrian Peverell, the ring, that was evidence of his Lordship over The Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell, on his finger. It wasn't a big ring, not as large as the Lordship ring of the Malfoy family, and even though it made his hand looking small and fragile.

 

The first rumours of the claiming over the Peverell Lordship started in Tom's last and final year at Hogwarts and in the beginning he couldn't believe it at all. It was  _his_ right. Only his, like being the heir of Slytherin. And as he saw a picture of the boy in his newspaper one morning, he had to make sure not to laugh out loud because of the ridiculousness and absurdity of the situation. How could this plain boy be able to do what he couldn't? He wasn't even off age.

The information about Hadrian Peverell were limited, to name it like it was. He was at least one year younger than Tom, was homeschooled and would finish his education at a minor and petty school because of his recent loss of his parents. Why the parents, the father, didn't claim the Lordship himself was a question Tom couldn't be sure about.

 

“Lord Malfoy,” Peverell said and tilted his head in a bow. His voice was smooth and a bit silky, something Tom hadn't expected.

“Lord Peverell,” Lord Malfoy replied, his face passive and cold. Abraxas stood beside them and was completely ignored.

“I was excited to receive an invitation.” Tom decided that there was something off about the boy: His stance too straight and voice too even. It was like he was used to this but that couldn't be possible. Tom would know. “It's beautiful.”

They had never meet before, Tom was so sure as he could possible be, but as their eyes looked, it was like something shifted in both of them. Tom himself was able to conceal the feelings that suddenly rushed through him, Peverell not. His face was a mixture of shame, shock, fascination, disgust and everything was stressed with the urge to flee. There was something about Peverell, Tom couldn't put his finger on it. Something subliminal and elusive. It made him mildly curious, because it stood against his first impression; and he had  _never_ been wrong so far.

“Lord Peverell,” Tom greeted, a winning smile on his lips. “If I could introduce myself? My name is Tom Riddle, it would be my pleasure if you address me as Tom.” It wasn't difficult for him to cover his dislike for his name; Tom was so plain and nothing special. It couldn't express the greatness, dignity and pride he obsessed. But he wasn't a Slytherin, by blood even, for nothing and so it was too easy to put the smile in his lips. If there was someone who could dupe him, then he would be deeply impressed.

“Mr Riddle,” Peverell said, a somehow forced smile on his lips, quite contrary to Tom's expression and Tom was indeed pleased with himself.

“I insist that you call me Tom.” His neatness wasn't returned and Tom liked the thought that it was his doing that the boy didn't feel as comfortable as he did before. Tom had a passion which involved solving enigmas such as Hadrian Peverell. The boy was full of differences: Stoic and uncertain and at the same time confident about himself. He managed to touch Tom like only few persons did before him; and every time it was an enjoyment to break them slowly, to pell every layer off of them and reveal all of their dirty little secrets while watching their pride was destroyed so that everybody could see it. To form and shift them as he wanted, to see them struggle during the procedure, desperately trying to break free off his web if they noticed what happened.

A welcome addition was the taste of Hadrian's magic. Free, fresh, unbounded. Tom took a deep breath as he stood near the smaller body, wondering if the skin would feel cool or warm to his touch. He smelt like too many herbs, his nose wasn't straight because of a little hunch and his face seemed to maintain a bit of the plumpness of a little child and his eyes were covered with a pair of large, black and round glasses. All in all he looked ridiculous with his, a bit too large, dress robe. But his eyes... Merlin.

“Harry,” the boy said through clenched teeth and Tom let his smile widen. A first step was a first step, after all.

 

That the boy wouldn't have end up in Slytherin was painfully obvious. He wasn't moving with the same elegance and grace members of the house did, his words weren't well-chosen and his expressions not guarded.

Tom watched, from the corner of his eyes, as Hadrian was being getting engaged in a conversation with a young witch, while he, Tom, kept talking with a man, the name of him already forgotten. It was as would everyone have a discreet glance on the Peverell Heir, who was acting like no heir dared to do before him. A bit clumsy and sometimes so awkward that Tom wondered whether it was real not. Hadrian blushed, like a thirteen-year-old girl who had a crush on someone and would talk to this person, and he talked in such a blatant manner that practically screamed that he had no experience; and that he lacked a proper knowledge of upper class etiquette.

It bothered Tom that he couldn't find a reasonable excuse to talk to Hadrian. Every fibre of his body desired to be near the boy, to touch him, to explore him, in both meanings, and to claim him as his. Tom's mind screamed, thirst for being with him. He was like an interesting object Tom wanted to sort into his collection, keep it and don't give it away until he knew everything and his curiousity was satisfied with his findings.

 

“Tom,” Abraxas said, his eyes focused on the ground, feeling visible inconvenient. “Father would like to see you sitting next to us.”

The dinner was a serious matter. People seemed to be nervous about getting a good place to sit, so they could form new and lucrative acquaintances, keeping contact to old acquaintances and watch their so called enemies. Tom observed the pathetic human beings who thought themselves as being superior to others. All their behaviour was beneath him because  _he_  was above them all, they just weren't aware of it although they acted as they would; and it humoured him every time someone went out off his way because they could feel his power, his presence.

The young Peverell heir was quite the opposite, he realised suddenly through the dinner. He wasn't afraid to look into Tom's eyes when their looks accidentally crossed, he didn't back off and his face and emotions were carefully shielded away. This small rebellion let Tom smiling fondly at him, his wish to claim him as his increasing with every moment, and he wanted to torture everyone who dared to lay a hand on what was his.

The Yule Ball was arranged by the Malfoy's and took place at the mansion. The people dressed up to show their wealth and to impress. It was like a muggle circus, everyone tried to show off. Hadrian Peverell did nothing like that, he stood out like a Hufflepuff in a group of Slytherins, and gained what everyone else was hoping for: Attention. They expected better from the new heir, who was for the first time within their society, they gave him disapproving glances and still he got was the others wanted. A name, a reputation, money, potential. It was all there, the question was what Hadrian decided to do with it.

 

It were the eyes of Hadrian that left the most effect on Tom. Somehow sad, forceful and still hoping for better times. They told stories Tom couldn't get a hold of, he couldn't capture what he saw or what they tried to tell him.

“May I ask for a dance, Hadrian?” Tom asked, reaching out with a hand, holding it in a waiting manner midair. A few couples occupied the dance floor and others were going to participate when the next play started.

“You might,” Hadrian said, his hands frantically searching for something,  _anything_ , to hold on. “Sadly young Lady Lydia insisted that I continue the conversation we had to interrupt because of dinner. It would not be wise to let a Lady wait for long, don't you agree?” He bowed his head slightly, just on the border of being impolite, and turned around to go to the young woman Tom watched him talking to earlier. Hadrian Peverell, a hidden  _hothead._

Tom raised an elegant eyebrow and looked after the moving form of Hadrian. He wasn't used to people trying, more or less successful, to give him counter, and he found it amusing and irritating at the same time. Usually they jumped at the occasion and wanted to impress him with their knowledge and skills. Looked like it would be even funnier to break his new little toy, he mused silently, while he scratched out a few wrinkles of his robe.

 

“Lady Lydia, Hadrian,” Tom greeted as he reached both figures. While Hadrian glared at him, it was a nice, although strange, change to the scared or awed expressions he got otherwise, Lydia looked confused and helpless. Yes, it was a privilege to address Lord Peverell by his given name. A privilege that Lydia seemed not to share with him and it satisfied him deeply. If Hadrian was aware of the meaning that they addressed each other with their first names? Tom wasn't too sure of it.

“I have to excuse the interruption of your, certainly important and profound, conversation. Our Hadrian here promised me the next dance and it's time for me to fetch him.” He gently took her hand for a kiss on her hand, watched pleased the shade of red appearing on her cheeks. “If you would excuse us?”

To dance with Hadrian was amusing. The boy tried, grimly and without great success, to take the lead from him while Tom spun them gracefully around the floor. Hadrian wasn't a great dancer per se, but he made it up with passion, fighting and challenging Tom whenever he could. It was ecstatic and Tom grinned manically. Oh yes, he would enjoy Hadrian.

One dance turned into two and three. Whenever Hadrian tried to flee Tom hold him back. People started to look and to whisper about them, and Tom promised himself to make sure that they understood that Hadrian was taken. Why Tom wanted him? Neither he knew but he would find out soon enough. Perhaps because he saw something in the boy, something powerful and maybe even a bit of wit in his eyes. It wasn't his appearance, but the aura around him, that changed something,  _everything_. If it wasn't for that, and his Lordship, Tom wouldn't care to take a second glance in his direction.

 

Tom kissed Hadrian. Right there, in front of the whole room. Forcefully and not at all gently. The pairs around them stopped dancing, Tom ignored Hadrian's struggle to get free and pulled him closer. His mind screamed to claim him, to protect him, to keep him safe. To mark Hadrian Peverell as his possession. His magic reached out, acting according to his wishes, touched a tiny bit of the foreign magic and wrapped around it like a heavy blanket.

There was a clapping sound. Disbelief was written on Tom's, and Hadrian's, face as Tom slowly touched his cheek, one hand still holding Hadrian. It felt a bit warm, nothing really hurt but it was the thought behind it that mattered. Tom grinned. A few people gasped, their eyes went round, when they hadn't their facial expressions under control, but Tom just stared in two green orbs. Two eyes that considered him with rage, hate, disbelieve of his own actions, and fear. Hadrian was beautiful in that very moment as the certainness sunk in that it was too late for him.

 

Step two: Starting the claiming, successful.

Step three: Showing his claiming, successful. (And claiming him, was like claiming the Peverell Lordship.)

 

“Hadrian,” Tom started and stopped because he wasn't sure what he could possible say. Did he need to excuse himself in front of a stranger? Was he even sure what he wanted to say or that he even wanted to apologise? He didn't know if he could apologise though, since it was his very intention to do as he did.

“Tom.” Hadrian was close lipped, only his eyes and his slightly trembling body betrayed his true feelings.

“It would be an honour for me to take you out tomorrow.” Tom Riddle was never shy to say what he wanted. And he wanted the boy. He felt even better as he saw the despair written in Hadrian's eyes and the single teardrop that rolled down his cheek.

“How dare you?” Hadrian asked calmly, his eyes suddenly promised a slow death. Tom was fascinated and somehow in love.

Fun, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Do you like it? If yes: Please leave me a comment and/or a kudo.
> 
> I have a second chapter planned, if anyone is interested?
> 
>  
> 
> (The second chapter is planned but it won't be published within the next days because I'm on holidays and its not written down yet. Thank you very much for the comments and kudos and I'm happy that you liked it so far!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the Kudos and the comments on the first chapter. It's great to know that you liked it! It really means a lot to me.
> 
> I know that there are just Sacred 28 but I needed 29 in this one, because I consider Peverell as a member as well. Have fun with this chapter and let me know what you think about it. 
> 
> That's how I imagine Tom to act: A bit irregular but with a clear plan in mind. I know that Harry seems to be a bit too easy to "take over" but in my imagination that will change as soon as he really realised what is happening. I need this start should I ever continue this story. I have written downs ideas and Harry's behaviour would change within the next chapterseconds, even if only a bit because a drastic change is not realistic. I'm also convinced that Harry has a plan and we just can't see it because this is written in Tom's point of view. I hope you can understand it. I'm still in the opinion that Harry, even in this, acts a bit rebellious. 
> 
> English is still not my native language, please don't be too hard with it and if someone is voluntary to correct it: Please go on. :-)

To court someone had a long and deep tradition in the magical world, it was like the roots of an old tree. And although Tom was positive that Hadrian wasn't a _traditional_ person per se, and that he wasn't aware of all proceedings and most likely wouldn't care if he would know about them, he still decided to follow the old rules. At least mostly. If he wanted to convince the upper class society that he indeed valued them and their ways, then he needed to be careful about his next steps. There still was, despite all his own thoughts about it, a meaning behind it. A meaning purebloods appreciated and held up as a high tradition; and they despised everyone who went against it. Yes, he had to be _careful_ around them, calculating his steps and avoiding starting to soon with his plans. After all: They needed time to get used to new things or _positions_ , which they would get under his leadership. Thankfully Tom was trained to calculate, to observe and to act when nobody expected it. And he was patient.

“Hadrian,” Tom greeted, nodding with a warm smile on his lips. It had been painfully easy to figure out where the boy lived. A bit of the right questions to the right people, and they didn't know what happened to them as they sung to him like a teenager girl. This skill made Tom's life bearable. Abusing it, not what his opinion was, they were just too stupid to realise what happened to them, was not beneath him, not as long it helped him to reach his goals.

“Riddle.” Hadrian looked at him as he would see the devil himself, and Tom had to stop a gleeful chuckle which threatened to escape his lips. His, Hadrian's, face lay in dark shadows, his eyes were a bit more puffy than they were the day before and Tom liked to think that it was his doing. Some persons, he remarked silently, have to be forced to their own good. Others dreamed to be in his near and to have his attention on them, Hadrian should show more appreciation.

“Please call me Tom, darling. You did so yesterday and it was my pleasure.” He gently took Hadrian's hand and breathed a kiss on top of it, noticing the faint blush that crept on his cheeks. Indeed, Hadrian was inexperienced. Possible a virgin, his brain added helpfully, and he had to refrain himself from a mad little grin. He wouldn't want to scare him, _too_ much.

“Shall we go?”

“If you insist.” Hadrian seemed to learn fast.

“Indeed, I do.” Waiting for Hadrian to reach out for his hand, his smiled and held himself straight. It felt like a win.

 

Seeing Hadrian the first time in well-fitting clothes was like a warm summer breeze with just the right amount of fresh wind. Perfect, and it was _his_ doing. Hadrian seemed to feel a tiny bit uncomfortable, there was still this vague flush on his cheeks; but he dared to glare at him. Tom frowned. Unacceptable. But on the other hand: He still had to start forming the boy according to his, Tom's, wishes and likings. Nevertheless, he was extremely satisfied with himself that Hadrian looked like he did, somehow aristocratic in these robes, and that everybody was able to see the beginning glory of _his_ possession. They would envy him, look up to him and none would be foolish enough to touch or even squint in Hadrian's direction, because they know of what he was able to do to them. And if some moron still thought it was worth a try, then, Tom thought with slightly eager eyes, he would make them suffer, he would destroy them. Emotionally, physically. He loved to see people struggle in agony, seeing their hunted expressions. It was fun.

Oh yes, Hadrian was his. Hadrian Peverell had been marked as Tom Riddle's obsession that night, everyone who had been attending the Yule Ball knew and accepted it, only Hadrian seemed still to struggle with the concept for a bit. But it was alright as long as Tom knew that Hadrian was his; Hadrian would finally realise it with time. It was only natural for him, Hadrian, to notice it as well. One step after another, and his first was to make sure to be good-looking, being well-mannered and prepared for this date. After all, it was not enough to show his claiming, he had to make official, take Hadrian off of the market without last remaining doubts from everyone, Hadrian included.

Abraxas even had the nerve to congratulate him for finding such a _fine_ match, as he stated the whole thing while looking rather uncomfortable and frightened. Tom was sure that Abraxas just said that because he thought that he needed to and felt lenient with him. The young heir was one of Tom's first tries to create something beautiful and _more_ ; and Tom had reluctantly to admit that he failed in patches. Nevertheless, Abraxas was a worthy first experiment, even though not entirely perfect: He developed into a good heir, someone respectable, and he was loyal to Tom. Broken, yes, of course, he was too scared, too fearful and reserved, but he had his value when it came to public reputation. As sadly as it was, and Tom fully intended to change that as soon as possible, he wasn't a member of the Sacred Twenty-Nine and therefore needed someone to represent him within these families. Because they had _standards_ ; or at least they thought so.

 

Hadrian sat opposite to him, mostly copying his, Tom's, position but he didn't do it always; it was like he forgot about it and just sat there stoically and expressionless. Even his emotions were in that moments not visible for Tom and it unnerved him. Tom remembered reading that it was within human beings to reflect others doings, Tom's frown deepened. There was this something about Hadrian again. It was like Hadrian contained two souls, without really being aware of it. _Fascinating_ , considering that the boy was so young. Both of them with slightly but with aggravating differences. One seemed to be in force while the other tried to beat the other one.

The thought was quite refreshing because it would explain the distinctions Tom watched in the boy, and it raised questions as well. How could have this boy developed a split personality? Tom hadn't a use for someone with such problems, he needed them to be healthy, in control. He would need to observe it more.

They ate mostly in silence and Tom used that moment to take Hadrian's whole appearance in, he was made for Tom. An imperceptible part of being crazy, longing for something he couldn't name himself. And the magic of him. _Dear Merlin_! Tom could bath in it and it wouldn't get boring because he didn't see everything. Yes, he anticipated to take Hadrian apart. The boy looked like he wanted to be far away; and yet he sat there: Still, silently distressed and somehow graceful, struggling him.

Tom insisted on paying for everything, after all he had an own reputation to keep, and he was the one who invited the boy. It was well-known that he, Tom Riddle, was a gentleman. Young and charming, bright and he was able to read the wishes of his opposite just through one look in his or her eyes. So he didn't take the bitter glances seriously, attached a harmless smile on his lips and called the waiter; an older man, nervous and week, who wasn't worth his attention at all.

“I would like to pay, Riddle the name. Please send me the invoice per owl post.” He nodded politely, his eyes promising deaths if the man dared to dissent. A wonderful feeling, seeing the other one flinching, a noticeable trembling captured his hands. Yes, Tom loved being the one in force. The one who held all the power in his hands.

Hadrian sent him a glower. As he stated just seconds ago: Power was something Tom adored and wanted for himself, he liked it if the people surrounding him were powerful, and he was even more satisfied when it was under his control. It was like Hadrian would dare Tom to fight him; and Tom couldn't say that he wasn't amused and seduced to do so. It was _such a_ welcome change to his dull daily life. How refreshing, he could even call it exhilarating. Again Tom had to compliment himself for his fine taste and selection.

 

Hadrian was, should be, nothing more but a mere _object_ to help him to fulfil his visions of the future, his dreams would come true with Hadrian at his side. He was so sure about it. And Hadrian, Hadrian was the lucky one Tom predestined to be his ticked to the world that was otherwise closed for him, he would get him respect. He would mark, _claim_ , his right, a right they denied him for so long, openly when the time was there. Hadrian's best description was of a useful tool, Tom shouldn't think as much about him as he did. He just shouldn't and that triggered the question of what was so special about this mere boy. Someone who never would have gathered his attention and it still did.

He had watched the boy interacting with Lord Malfoy, observed him charming this witch, Lydia, and tried to discover more about his past since he knew about him being Lord Peverell. His most skilled followers attempted to get a hold of new information of the boy they searched days and nights. Just that there wasn't anything find; and that was strange, even _wrong_. No records: Birth certificate, school enrolment, education. Nothing. It was like he suddenly showed up, presented him as the new Lord of a long-lost house which others tried to get hold of. It was like the _house_ decided to _wait_ for his appearance. Smiling manically, Tom was convinced that the boy could be useful for _so much more_. With Hadrian at his side, Tom will show the world what he was capable to. The world wouldn't know what happened to it before it was too late to react.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He felt indulgent with Hadrian, letting him have his little temper tantrum like an ill-behaved child. While watching, Tom's gaze trailed down the line of Hadrian's throat, his laryngeal prominence, better known as ones Adam's apple, leaped up and down as he spoke wildly. Power was knowledge and skill together, and Tom got both. Or power through knowledge.

Tom smirked faintly, looking Hadrian up and down, pleased that he didn't lose his bite. That would have make it a lot more boring, something Tom despised in his toys. His stance was still straight and if you looked long enough you could find something similar to proudness, but he lacked the confidence he held himself with at the Yule Ball. Tom felt easy and satisfied with the development. Perhaps Hadrian finally started to learn his place.

It was just two days after their date, the newspaper reported and missed all the important details, as Tom saw the boy again. He was with Lydia, all smiling and happy, but Tom could see the small things. The way he leant back when she tried to touch him, the forced edges of Hadrian's lips and it made him happy. After noticing that he could calm down his burning jealousy, enjoying the act in front of him and intervene whenever he seemed it appropriates.

As Tom approached them Hadrian watched him with the smallest bit of resignation and a good portion of distrust. He couldn't hold it against him.

The whole Diagon Alley was watching. Some pointed at them, others just stood there and couldn't believe what they saw in front of them. A mother kept her hands firmly over her children's ears. None of them seemed to enjoy it or see the beauty Hadrian was in that moment. Tom felt certain that he had to threaten someone to remain that from all newspapers, but he was resourceful. A few people owed him a favour, while he had to find the right trigger by other people. Everybody had at least one and he was good. Oh, so good at this play.

Lydia stared at Hadrian wildly, she knew who Tom was and that you never spoke to him in that matter. She went with him to Hogwarts, a few years younger, but she still understood quite well that you never crossed his paths. At least if you didn't want to live a hunted life. It was surprising Tom that she even tried it and he made a mental note to observe her later. Lydia, head down and lips pressed together, brought space between herself and Hadrian and Tom. Clever girl, Tom thought. Hadrian was a force of nature she couldn't handle, let someone do the miracle who was qualified for it. Hadrian was an enigma he desired to solve alone, in his own time.

“Why, by Morgana, do you think that you can move around here and try to take over my life? You are just a sad excuse of a...”

“My my, Hadrian. Such a temper you are showing so openly. Considering that you are a _Lord_ it's not the best move you could have done. Coffee?” He turned around, Hadrian following with disdain, but he went nevertheless. Maybe he felt the strange pull as well.

 

“I wouldn't want you to go home alone,” Tom said smoothly, one hand grasping Hadrian's upper arm, holding him. Looking confused at Tom, Hadrian stopped his monologue. Please with the thought that Tom caused this break and faltering. “It's already past evening and I wouldn't dare to get you coughed because of illegal magic using.”

He apparated before Hadrian had a change to tell him that he was indeed seventeen and had the right to use magic whenever he liked. They were already in his foyer of his house, which, the whole house, was shielded against the use of foreign magic within, as he had the chance to do it.

Hadrian punched him. Again. Tom's only visible reaction was a smirk, satisfied. Ignoring the faint ache he flicked his fingers. “Tea?”

That Hadrian was below him, was something he proved rather early but Tom wasn't surprised by it at all. It was quite the opposite: He knew that rarely people matched him; because they never did. Some had the power, not the brain. Others had brain without power, and they lacked allies to compensate it. A different case was Hadrian Peverell; in theory he could reach Tom and be his equal. But he would never be since Tom found him before he could reach his full potential. Shortly Tom paused in his walking, absently musing about it. Would the world be a better place if he had someone similar, in skills and magic? He snorted. Perhaps it was, but Hadrian was too _good_ , to _pure_ in his magic. Most probably he could be his equal but not his ally, in that case he would have to kill him sooner than he liked. That would be too sad. Tom never liked to waste toys before he was done with them; it was always such a shame.

Nevertheless, it was an impressive bit a magic that Hadrian had shown him there. Nothing Tom had problems with or would struggle to overcome, but he had to admit, as he tipped with his own magic against the shield, it was unexpected and surprising; a challenge and it pleased him deeply. It shouldn't have been possible for him to do it. And Hadrian was young, it gave evidence of more education than Hadrian would have got at his simple school. How _attractive_ , Tom felt satisfied and thrilled. The most important thing was that he was still there. Which meant that his magic was limited, mostly defensive in his house. Tom longed to know what he was capable of outside, with full access to his magic. A purely thrilling thought, only too early to consider it happening.

It was the name Tom loathed, his very own name, and he intended to change it. He wanted Hadrian, not _only_ because of his name, but it was a large part of it. A name was strength, or at least a grand bit. Of course could the Malfoy's get him more prestige, the Peverell's weren't known to have many heirlooms, and if Tom asked, Lord Malfoy would hand him Abraxas and everything he asked for over. Just with a bit of a fuss. Because he was scared, ordinary. A Lord with too less backbone for his own good.

Hadrian looked even younger in his sleep, his face small and round. The dark lines, that were firmly in place when he was awake, vanished. Tom could stand there and observe him for hours, that all was _his_ , only his.

“Time to rise, Hadrian.” Immediately the boy woke up, quickly breathing and an appalled expression in his eyes. They were, without the glasses to hide them, magnificent and if Tom would be a poet he would have to call them as being lovely and something that let you dream of things you wouldn't be able to imagine. Thankfully Tom wasn't a dreamer, instead he believed in making his dreams come true.

“The tea...” He looked thoughtful and that expression changed into pure range. A lovely sight. It seemed like he had indeed a few working brain cells, he wasn't too dull. Tom could work with that. The little parts Hadrian had shown him promised to carry a tempting future.

“I want you to read that thoroughly. It's a ritual we both will participate the day after tomorrow and I want you to be prepared.” Tom smirked at Hadrian's bewildered and wary expression as he gave him the paper. It was just so easy to read him in that moment that it was almost, only almost, tedious and so _predictable_. Luckily for him there were other times when he captured Tom's interested and proved to be worthy to keep. “You might need to go to the library. Otherwise, I'm afraid I can't assure you that you will understand everything.”

As he left Hadrian on his own, deep in thoughts, he took notice of the beginning small smile and a light flash in Hadrian's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (That's how I imagine Tom to act: A bit irregular but with a clear plan in mind. I know that Harry seems to be a bit too easy to "take over" but in my imagination that will change as soon as he really realised what is happening. I need this start should I ever continue this story. I have written downs ideas and Harry's behaviour would change within the next chapter, even if only a bit because a drastic change is not realistic. I hope you can understand it. Also note that this is written in Tom's point of view, so it seems easy because for him it is. Take the last sentence as a hint that Harry has his own agenda.)
> 
> That's it for now. Maybe I will extend this in the future but I'm not sure yet.
> 
> If you liked it so far please let me know with a Kudo and/or a comment.


End file.
